


Many

by gigantic



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Concussions, First Kiss, M/M, Magic Revealed, Minor Violence, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff wakes up and wakes up and wakes up different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Many

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ologist/gifts).



Someone’s in the house.

Jeff hasn’t moved yet. His eyes are open, the fuzziness of his mind subsiding. All the lights are off, and there’s no clattering, nothing that would make the bedroom seem like anything other than the perfect picture of late-night calm. The body next to him is still except for the even swell and release of breathing. Jeff turns his head slightly, seeing the way hair falls across Elias’ face as he burrows under the comforter. 

He’s peaceful. Jeff would hate to wake him.

He’ll have to make this quick. 

Slipping from the bed isn’t the challenge. Jeff does that easily enough, eyes adjusting to darkness. He moves out into the hallway quietly, thankful that the door doesn’t squeak. Empty. There’s no one waiting on the other side, so he advances slowly, sock-covered feet quiet along the wood floor. 

Jeff’s mind races. Instincts have him lay out all the house’s quirks: rusty door hinges, the easiest hiding place, and whether or not any of the floorboards -- fuck. One makes a whining sound as he comes to the kitchen’s entryway. Positioned compromised. 

Well. 

The second he steps around the corner he’s met with a blow, an arm swinging down at his head that clips his shoulder when he shifts away. Jeff returns jabs, trying to hit when he can and hold when he gets any kind of grip. For a few moments, it’s all skin and cloth absorbing body blows, the battle muffled. The gunshot that misses his flank and lodges in the wall starts to shatter the night’s peaceful illusion, even with the silencer attached. Jeff shoving the guy back into the fridge to free the gun and give himself room to reach for the knives in the block on the counter wipes it away completely. He can hear food and bottles shift around in the fridge. 

Jeff manages to swipe a knife free, but his opponent recovers in time to reach for his arm. It slips from Jeff’s hand, clattering on the floor. He gets thrust into the counter, feeling pain bloom in his back. Sliding to the floor at least gives him surfaces to brace against and put force behind his leg as he kicks at a knee.

They end up fighting for dominance on the ground. Jeff almost has the upper hand, pinning this stranger down and stretching his arm out to reach the knife.

A light cuts on. “Jeff!” he hears, and that’s all it takes. Half a second of distraction, of surprise, and he’s bucked off, tossed into the low cabinets. Two seconds more and he can hear Elias shout something as the knife’s plunged into his abdomen. 

He shouts. The pain is searing, lighting up all his senses. Jeff pulls it together enough to yell, “The gun, the gun!” 

He’s not sure if the message gets through until a shot rings out. The stranger’s head jerks to the side. Jeff’s scrabbling away immediately, taking the knife and holding it up, ready, as the body falls limp. His heart pounds, and he’s not sure why. Jeff’s trained for this. He hasn’t needed to fight in a while, but he’s stayed prepared. It feels like blood is rushing in his ears, and he can’t take enough breaths, and it’s when he Elias touches his side that Jeff snaps out of it.

“Fuck, fuck,” Elias is saying. “Jeff, what--”

“We have to go.”

Elias has dropped the gun. His hands are shaking, one touching the dark, wet patch on Jeff’s shirt. He says again, “What?”

“We have to go,” Jeff says, firmer, and moves to stand. He falters, a little dizzy. 

“Shit,” Elias says. “Jeff, Jeff, there’s blood. You got stabbed.”

“Elias, we have --”

“What’s _going on_?” Elias demands, obviously rattled. He just shot someone, Jeff remembers.

He faces Elias, places his hands on his face to try to center him. He says, “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you on the way, but we have to go. They’ll send more --”

Shots ring through the front windows, and Jeff’s whole body jumps, adrenaline pumping again as he sits up in bed. 

It’s dark again. He’s breathing hard, disoriented. It takes a moment for him to register Elias sitting on the edge of the mattress and saying, “Hey, hey. Skins, hey. Jeff, you’re okay.”

He’s fine. They’re fine. It didn’t happen.

“Sorry,” he pants and tries to inhale slowly, slow his pulse. “Did I wake you?” 

The sun hasn’t come up yet, and Elias looks disheveled. He was probably in his room. Shit. Jeff frowns but Elias shrugs.

“You screamed.”

“Shit,” Jeff says. “Sorry.”

“Where was it this time? Bad, I guess. You look scared.” 

“Uh,” Jeff says, wiping his face. He’s sweating. “Yeah, I was -- it was here. There was someone in here.” He glances toward his bedroom door, noting the hall light. He wonders about the kitchen. “I was some kind of -- I could fight. I got --”

His eyes drop down to his stomach, looking for a wound. Nothing. His shirt’s clean. There’s a phantom ache in his side, like he can still feel where the knife went in. 

“You’re okay,” Elias says following Jeff’s gaze. He presses his hand over Jeff’s against his stomach when Jeff just goes silent, heart still pounding. “You’re back. Just you.” 

**

After his first concussion, Jeff thought they were regular dreams. Brighter but normal. He followed all of the doctor’s orders exactly, limiting his TV and computer use. He wanted to heal fast and completely, so he thought his mind was working overtime when he slept, like it had to compensate for the boredom. They were vivid and all different. Sometimes they were nightmares that left him feeling exhausted, but as his symptoms disappeared, so did the dreams. 

He was too busy again, he thought. It didn’t matter. 

**

In the morning, Elias has practice and Jeff has to see a doctor. They’re going to ride in together, and then Jeff’s going to get a cab back. 

He makes the apple and brie omelette Elias loved from a few weeks ago. Jeff hasn’t tried to make it again since, but he kept the bookmark since Elias couldn’t stop exaggerating his moans as he ate it.

“Mmm, so special,” Elias says as he sees the two plates on the counter. “What’s this?”

“A thank you.” He rinses the pan and leaves it in the sink. “And I’m sorry I woke you.”

Elias rolls his eyes but reaches to pick at one of the apples slices. He juggles it in his hand, trying to deal with the heat, and then pops it in his mouth, humming happily. He asks, “All better now?”

Jeff nods. It’s always easier to talk about it with some hours removed. “I think was some kind of spy. Someone broke in the house, and I had to -- I think they were trying to kill me.”

Elias’ eyes shoot wide. “Like ‘Mission Impossible’?”

Jeff laughs. Elias had a lot of fun with ‘Ghost Protocol.’ He says, “Sure,” and then frowns. “I got a knife in the stomach.” 

His belly’s smooth, though. He checked again this morning. 

Mirroring Jeff’s frown, Elias steps closer and touches Jeff’s head. “Sorry,” he says. “Only sweet things tonight, I hope.” 

Elias is fully dressed but his face is still kind of morning puffy. His smile is sleepy. Jeff thinks about waking up in bed with him, the way his hair fanned down across his brow. 

Side-stepping, he says, “Anyway,” and tells Elias more about how great he was at hand-to-hand. He leaves out the part where Elias came in. 

**

The next afternoon, Elias says, “Jeff, wait,” while they’re in the grocery store. His thumb slips along the back of Jeff’s neck, curving around to the front slightly. Jeff swallows. His finger comes away a pretty, bright blue. 

He didn’t get to sleep until really late. He finally dozed off watching a random sci-fi series on Netflix. He woke up on the couch, and Elias was already tuned into some cooking show and pointing out which recipes Jeff should try. So. Groceries. And there’s blue paint on Jeff’s neck.

“Kindergarten teacher,” he says.

Elias looks at his finger, considering it carefully like there are more answers to be found. Looking back at Jeff, he smiles. “You painted a pretty picture?” 

“Well, the kids did. Arts and crafts time.” It’s one of the few he gets to revisit. He tends to forget how much he misses the students until he sees them again. He knows how that sounds. “I helped.” 

“You’re a good teacher.” This time it’s not a question. Elias drags his thumb across his own neck, smearing the blue. They match now. Catching Jeff’s expression, he says, “No tissue.” 

Jeff shakes his head. He sways to the side, nudging Elias forward. “Come on, we still need to get butter and stuff.” 

**

Jeff’s dreams got stronger when he was sidelined with another head injury. It was after his second concussion that he realized he sometimes brought things with him when he woke up. 

**

He passes all of his tests. Cognitive function seems on track. His eyes still respond to light well. His balance is fine. Feel okay? Yes. Ever forget where he is? No. Et cetera, et cetera. 

Jeff’s excited to get back in the lineup. He flies to Winnipeg with the team, and he doesn’t get on the scoreboard but he takes a roughing penalty in the middle of the second. Peters tells him to calm down. 

“You’ve got to ease up,” he says once he’s back on the bench. He thumps the side of his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “It’ll come back. It’s coming.” 

The problem is that they’re down 2-1. It’s hard to relax.

Make that 3-1. 

Losing typically puts everyone in a somber mood, but guys keep coming by him on the plane to say again that they’re glad he’s back. He’s tired of having to hear that, only because it means he’s missed things, but it is comforting that they felt his absence, too. 

“How’d you feel tonight?” Eric asks, not really surveying Jeff but focused on him. He has his full attention. 

“Timing’s off,” Jeff says, flicking his wrist to indicate what he means. “I need to get back up to pace.” 

“That’s normal, though.” He pretends to give Jeff a noogie, messing up his hair very gently. “And this? How’s the head?”

“Skinner!” someone calls -- Elias, Jeff sees when he glances over.

“Hold on a second.” Jeff holds up his hand, trying to put the scene on pause. To Eric, he says, “It’s fine. It’s good. I’m ready. Promise.”

Two days ago Jeff was still a figure skater. He trained for hours and didn’t worry about dizziness or pushing himself too hard at all. His coach was strict, always demanding better form or stronger strides. He spoke like Jeff might complain or something, usually, but Jeff loved every second. 

He woke up with a dusting of snow on his comforter, same as the shower he gave the boards as he skated to a stop. He watched it melt into the blanket before he got out of bed, feeling good about his appointment with the specialists. 

Now he’s playing. His head’s fine. 

“I’m glad,” Eric says, letting relief wash across his face. Jeff only realizes that he’d been concerned in hindsight, watching it fade away thanks to the reassurance. “Now if you could score at least 20 for us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeff says, pushing at Eric’s arm. He waves him off and moves back to the row where Elias is sitting, laptop open. “Hey.”

Elias doesn’t greet him. His eyebrows lift as his expression does, going from neutral to something happy and casual. He holds out an earbud. “Got this film from Hainsey. Want to watch with me?” 

“What is it?”

He’s already taking the earbud, but Elias says, “I don’t know. He said it was funny.” 

Jeff drags his finger over the player to laptop’s mouse to see if the player will tell him what’s starting up. It’s ‘Wayne’s World.’

“Okay.”

He settles in the seat, leaning on the armrest between them to get the best view of the screen. Though it doesn’t make him feel strange, Jeff can sense Elias looking at his face, appraising him as he gets comfortable. 

“You’re tired,” Elias says. 

“No, I’m not. I’m good for now.” 

He sees maybe ten minutes of the movie, and then he’s waking up with his head on Elias’ shoulder, Elias jostling his head as he laughs. 

“Be still,” Jeff says. He rotates his head, trying to look up. Elias is smiling at him. 

“Sorry, sleepyhead.” He scrunches his face in a cartoonish frown. “Your head’s heavy, by the way.”

“Oh,” Jeff says. Right. He passed out on Elias, pinning his left arm. “Do you want me to move?”

“No, it’s okay.” Elias uses his right hand to get to Jeff’s head, scratching blunt fingernails against his scalp for a moment. 

**

When they lose 4-1 in Vancouver and fly home, Jeff goes to college. More specifically, he’s spending a semester abroad in Sweden, and based on the papers he’d found in his luggage before others in the program dragged him to dinner, he’s been here two weeks. 

Stockholm is a gorgeous city. He doesn’t know any of the people who seem to be his friends, but he thinks he fakes it alright. Enough of the right things keep rolling off his tongue that Jeff makes do. 

Not everyone in their group is old enough to buy their own drinks, so Jeff orders for a few at once. He’s gathering pints, trying to figure out how to balance them when someone says, “Do you need help?”

He knows the voice. 

Elias looks amused at Jeff’s attempt to get his fingers around every handle.

“Uh. Whh, yeah, I’m a disaster. About to make a mess,” Jeff says and laughs.

Tilting his head, Elias asks, “Where are you from? I thought US when I heard you order, but--”

“Oh, Canada.” He has to chuckle at himself again for saying it like that, trying to hum the start of the national anthem to explain what’s funny to Elias. Eventually, he says, “Never mind. I’m Jeff.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Elias.” 

They bring back the drinks together. Elias and the two people he’s with get absorbed by Jeff’s group. He finds out that Elias is only 18, so he can’t buy either. Jeff nudges his beer over.

“No, thank you. I don’t need it,” Elias says. 

He’s visiting family. The guy and girl with him are his cousins, and they wanted to get out for a while. Jeff doesn’t bother refilling his drink, which means they’re sober for most of the time they spend talking, which means they’re sober when they let their friends and relatives ditch them for another spot. 

Jeff is 100 percent aware when they’re walking together outside, heading in the general direction of his temporary dorm, and Elias asks, “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yeah.” Jeff steps into his space.

One of Elias’ fingers rests right over the pulse point of Jeff’s neck as he goes for it. He’s not even pressing, but Jeff feels acutely aware of his heart’s thud as he parts his lips anyway. The contrast between the heat of their mouths and the chill in the air is intoxicating all its own. Jeff gasps softly, asking in hushed breaths if Elias wants to come all the way back with him.

He can’t. Elias has to be somewhere in the morning. “Wait, my cousin had,” he starts and roots through his pocket. “Here.” He pulls out a pen and takes Jeff’s arm, writing numbers down on his palm. 

“I’m here for a week,” Elias says. 

The ink is still there when Jeff wakes up in his bed in Carolina. He washes it off in the shower without first writing the number down. It’s been in his phone for more than a year now.

**

He hadn’t really ever planned to tell Elias, or anyone, anything about it. Jeff had been really fortunate during most of the 2013-14 season, all his dreams a comforting kind of muted. He got rattled in a game midseason and confessed because his dream felt technicolor that night. He was worried that it might not be the only one. It had been a fluke, but the secret was out.

Elias didn’t believe him or didn’t get it. Maybe both. He didn’t move out, though, seemingly content to let Jeff be a little over-the-top about dream interpretation -- or whatever he thought it was -- as long as they got along otherwise.

“Where’d you go this time?” Elias would ask occasionally, if Jeff woke up after him.

“It’s not like that right now,” Jeff told him. Regular dreams felt different. They didn’t leave him exhausted, like he’d gone 48 hours without resting. 

He’s pretty sure Elias didn’t believe him until after Jeff got sidelined during the last exhibition game this season. To be fair to Elias, it was impossible to ignore the way Jeff’s bedroom was covered in crunchy fallen leaves.

Stunned, Elias asked, “What happened?” 

Jeff took a moment to gather his thoughts, letting the worlds that had blended in his head separate again. Right, right. He remembered. 

“I had a dog-walking business. We found this giant park to play in,” Jeff said. 

“Fuck,” Elias sighed. He stepped into the room, the sounds of dead leaves crisp underfoot. 

Jeff had no idea what the hell to say. He stared at the way Elias curled his toes around a leaf. He said, “I’ll clean it up.”

Elias’ head snapped up, and he looked as baffled as Jeff felt. 

“You’re serious,” he said, after a second, and then laughed. It was full, the kind of hearty laugh that made Jeff blush, because he hadn’t even tried to tell a joke here to earn it. Also, the outdoors were in his bedroom, and he couldn’t really _explain_ that. 

Elias kept laughing. He said, “This is amazing,” and Jeff hadn’t really thought of it that way before. 

**

Jeff has a son. His name is Ian. He was three years old when Jeff first met him, an energetic kid that had to put his hands in everything. They’ve only ever gotten to hang out a few times, but Ian should be six by now, and if Jeff has any say in the matter, that’s the dream he’d like to have -- the place he’d like to go while he’s out again.

That’s the first thing that crosses Jeff’s mind after he goes into the boards hard, head bouncing. Somewhere there’s a version of his life where he stays in Markham, and his son is probably starting to learn to read. Jeff thinks it’d be cool to hear how far he’s gotten.

“Is there ringing?” he’s asked. Not really. “Okay. Can you turn your head this way, please?”

The dizziness has already dissolved. He doesn’t feel nauseous. He knows the score and where they are. It’s a home game. If he has any symptoms, they say, they’re mild. He should get some rest.

“Are you okay?” Elias asks when Jeff’s changing. Well, a lot of the guys ask, but Elias is the only one Jeff doesn’t feel right just giving a nod to right now.

He says, “I need to lie down.”

“I can do that.” He helps Jeff get all his stuff together, and then loaded into the car. Once they’re ready to go, seatbelts in and ignition on, Elias says, “See? Lucky you have me. We’ll be home so fast.”

In another version of Jeff’s life, Elias got drafted by the Toronto Maple Leafs instead of the Hurricanes. He is Ian’s second favorite player. Ian has the jersey in a size he hasn’t quite grown into yet. It’s signed.

Elias drives like a madman usually. Jeff can tell he’s being cautious right now. He uses a signal every time he makes a turn or changes lanes, which is about twice as much as normal. Listening to the click of it makes Jeff feel strangely fond.

By the time they get home, Jeff doesn’t want to dream. He doesn’t want to do much of anything, too wiped out to even bother going all the way to his room. Even if it turns out that he doesn’t have another concussion, he’s sapped all his energy between the game and stressing about it. 

“Alright, alright,” Elias says, guiding him to the couch. “Let’s go here, then.”

Jeff lets himself be maneuvered. Once Elias is finished, Jeff’s stretched across the cushions with his head in Elias’ lap. He knows his hair is still damp from his very quick shower at the rink, but Elias doesn’t seem at all fazed about it soaking into his slacks. He shrugs out of his jacket and pulls open his shirt collar some more. The TV comes on a moment later, but Elias turns the volume low.

“I need help staying up,” Jeff says. Just to be safe, he wants to stay awake a couple hours.

“No problem.”

“Thanks.” They drift into silence, Jeff looking at the ceiling and not really paying attention to whatever’s happening on the television. He sighs. “I hope I don’t dream at all.”

Elias tilts forward, looking down at him. “That bad?” 

It’s not that the dreams are awful. Most are innocuous or even fun, but sometimes the bad ones slip in, and it’s more that Jeff doesn’t ever know what he’s going to be thrown into. And all of them leave him more tired than when he went to sleep. Not dreaming simply works out better for him these days.

“It’s okay sometimes,” he says. He likes Ian. He like his students. He like that there are plenty of ways he still gets to have skating, in a lot of different makeups of his life. “I’m just tired tonight.”

“Hmm.” Elias settles a hand over his hair, stroking companionably. “I wish I could I see. Is that bad? I wish I could be there.”

Jeff snorts, an interrupted laugh in his throat.

“What?” Elias asks.

In 2012, Jeff went to two Halloween parties. The first was with a handful of the players in Charlotte, glad to have had a chance to let loose and get to know the AHL guys more outside of games or practice. The second party was on a rooftop. He’s not sure what city he was in, but a blond who came dressed as Buzz Lightyear laughed at all of his jokes and made out with him in a corner for 30 minutes. They moved inside eventually, found an empty room and locked the door. Mutual handjobs weren’t something he’d specifically been hoping to achieve on Halloween, but they really only improved the night. 

“I wasn’t gonna come,” the guy whispered in his ear. 

Jeff laughed, breathy, and made sure to look down at their half-on costumes as he said, “I’m glad you did.”

That made the guy laugh with him. Jeff loved his smile. 

He’d forgotten about the hookup. It wasn’t until a year later, after Elias had been on the roster for a while and showed everyone his costume for the team party, that Jeff thought about the thin material for cheap dress-up strained around naked thighs.

“You’re always there,” Jeff says. 

“Yeah, right. What does that mean?” Elias says. “I never wake up with surprise things in my room. I can’t do what you do.”

He says it like Jeff has a superpower. He likes to ask Jeff about his dreams seriously now. He has since he went down. It helped Jeff to occupy himself when he couldn’t do anything else -- telling Elias his edited versions of the stories. Elias sounding genuinely awed as he asked about details now that he believed was something Jeff hadn’t expected.

“In almost everything I see,” Jeff says, embarrassed that he’s admitting to anything. “You’re always there, or you show up.” 

Jeff anticipates him sometimes, hopes for it. 

Elias seems to take it in and parse it out. Jeff watches his expression shift. He says, “Really?” and hums. “What am I like?”

“You’re you,” Jeff says, mouth feeling dry. He swallows. “It’s still you. It feels like us.”

“We’re still friends? Like that?”

Like Jeff always falls for him. 

“Sort of,” Jeff says. “We either already are, or it feels like we could. It’s, um.” He should stop talking. He should get up and go to his room. There’s no reason he couldn’t have made it that far.

Jeff sits up, and Elias says, “Wait, hey. Your head --”

His hand has drifted down along Jeff’s face, gently touching his cheek. Jeff squeezes his eyes shut, deciding to blame it on an injury that he cranes closer, nervous as hell. His mouth grazes Elias’ and the sharp inhale from Elias makes him pause. They’re both frozen, waiting for something to crack, maybe for each other, and then Elias opens his mouth a little wider, slipping his hand back to pull Jeff’s head in a couple centimeters.

Jeff’s kissed Elias dozens of times, but he’s still counting this as the first. It doesn’t matter that he’s holding his weight strangely to make it work. His hand is pressed into Elias’ thigh, Elias’ tongue is in his mouth, and Jeff hopes he didn’t fall asleep. Please, please, please be awake.

The rest of Elias’ surprise hits a beat later. He breaks the kiss, jerking back. 

“Sometimes like that,” Jeff whispers. 

Dreaming doesn’t always bring him the best outcomes, but it almost always brings Elias. Jeff forgets that he misses a few versions of him until he gets them again, too. 

“You took me out of the stories?” Elias asks, hushed. 

Jeff feels chagrined but says, “Yeah. I didn’t know if it would make you feel weird --”

And Elias leans forward and kisses him again quickly. He bites his lip when he pulls back this time, traces of a smile tugging at his lips. 

He says, “Tell me.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Many](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220136) by [RsCreighton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton)




End file.
